Welcome, Espada!
by ElectricStarchild
Summary: The test would be rigorous. Relationships would be formed. Trails would be blazed. Sanity would be taxed. Food would be eaten. This is the story of how the Espada came to be. My first fic.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Gin waited at the cheap foldable table, placed right in front of the entrance to the palace, Las Noches.

The former shinigami was bored….bored, bored, bored, bored, BORED. So terminally bored that he feared that his trademark grin had been lost forever, replaced by a look that could only be described as pitifully drab. His eyebrows slanted upwards toward the middle of his forehead, and his mouth formed a thin line.

He was positive his head would explode from sheer boredom. Tousen would have to rinse his smile off the walls. Like a 3-hour seminar on the history of rocks, he was freakin' BORED.

The man hung his head and gave a discontent sigh. Aizen told him, with his usual quiet firmness, that he was to sit outside and wait for the desired arrancars to arrive. What did he call them? Edaspas? Epaspeedos? Epse-shama-lama-ding-dong-jack-in-a-box-carry-the-six-I-hate-Mondays-vote-for-Pedro-das? He thought with increasing disapproval that whoever these 'exceptional individuals' were, they must think that they're so awesome that they had to make him wait for six hours on an uncomfortable plastic chair. And what's worse, he was missing _Wife Swap_!

Six. Fucking. Hours. If those fools didn't arrive within the next ten minutes, he would just walk inside and sip some iced tea. If those arrancar come, they can just plant their sorry asses in front of the palace doors, since NONE OF THEM GIVES A FLYING F-

"Uh…is this a bad time?"

Gin was awakened from his lamentation by a youthful, feminine voice. He looked up to find two figures standing before him – one fairly tall, and one short – wearing little more than ragged cloaks of brown fabric. The tall one had a rugged appearance, and channeled a slightly apathetic James Dean. The more petite one resembled a pre-adolescent girl, and was staring pointedly at Gin's left hand. Gin followed her gaze and immediately blanched when he saw what she did.

The squeezable anger buddy that he had picked up from the dollar store was clutched in his left hand so tightly that its eyes dangled limply out of the sockets. His fingertips dug deep into the soft fabric.

Gin muttered a curse under his breath; that was the seventeenth one today. He tossed the mutilated plush toy in the nearest recycling bin.

He turned back to the arrancar, flashing his iconic grin.

"How may I help you?"


	2. The Arrivals

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story, or in the chapter before this. They all belong to Tite Kubo - the owner of the anime/manga BLEACH.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The small arrancar girl gave a wary stare toward Gin's fox-like grin.

"Umm…are you constipated, mister? If now isn't a good time, I can come back later for the registration if you want," she said hastily, already turning to leave.

The corners of Gin's mouth dropped slightly; his left eyebrow twitched. Why did everyone always say that?! His beautiful smile was an unparalleled work of art! No one makes fun of his smile…_NOBODY_. Fortunately for the little girl, she and her partner were too important to Aizen for him to crack open an ice cold can of Whoop-Ass on her.

Rather than slap the petite hollow clean across the face, Gin straightened up and beamed even more brightly.

"Nah, I'm fine, really! Now I just need yer names," Gin said, gesturing toward the girl and her unusually quiet companion.

The girl beamed. "Lilynette Gingerback and Coyote Starrk," she announced proudly.

Gin rummaged through the mess of papers that lay before him. He searched, and searched (he insisted that Aizen get an iPod from the Realm of the Living to organize all this junk, but nooooo……), until he finally procured two golden slips of paper. He handed them to Lilynette.

Suddenly, the rugged figure behind her began to twitch violently; his eyes were shut tight, as if he were having a nightmare.

"No! NO! NOOOOOOO!!!!!! YOU'LL NEVER STEAL THE MAGIC SPORK, CHUCK NORRIS!!!! NOT IF I, THE KING OF ALMIGHTY KUMQUATS, CAN PUT A STOP TO YOUR HIDEOUS CULT!!! CEREAL POWERS, ACTIVATE!! WHAZAAAMMM!!!!!"

Lilynette stared at Starrk with one eyebrow raised in exasperated confusion. Starrk blinked a couple times and absentmindedly scratched the back of his head – obviously oblivious to the random dribble that has just previously escaped his lips.

Gin cocked his head and stared quizzically at the wavy-haired arrancar. "That guy ok, eh?" he asked, though not really caring; he just wished this day would end. He dismissed the question with an exasperated wave of his hand. "Never mind, never mind. Just…take yer seats." Lilynette shrugged and, dragging a still half-asleep Starrk, walked over to one of the eleven plastic chairs lined up neatly next to the tent.

No sooner did the two sit down did a dreadfully tall figure saunter over to the desk. Gin glanced at the figure; had he seen him before?

The figure spoke. "Yo! Ichimaru! Long time, no see!" it shouted with a raucous nasal voice.

* * *

**Meanwhile...**

Aizen sipped his tea contentedly. The room resounded with the sedative sounds of smooth jazz. The trumpet sang softly; the piano cooed; the bass hummed; the drum cymbals whispered.

With Gin waiting outside, there was finally some peace around here.

No "Hey, Aizen, I just used some new toothpaste. Do my teeth look any brighter?"

No "Hey, Aizen, I just used some new shampoo. Does my hair look any wavier?"

No "Hey, Aizen, what's the meaning of life?"

His uncharacteristically ornery response to all those questions was, "Gin, I could honestly care less. Now go away, before I shove a spoon down your throat. "

Aizen heard the faint _clack-clack-clack _of footsteps. He froze, fearing that Gin had already finished his job. He gave a cautious glance over his shoulder and gave a relieved sigh. It was just Tousen.

Aizen continued his glance over his shoulder at the former shinigami. "Gin's been out there for quite a while, now. Are you planning to relieve him of his duties?" he asked casually.

Tousen, giving a slight shrug, replied nonchalantly, "Hmph. Probably not. Ichimaru picked the shortest straw, so if he starts complaining, we both know that he lost fair and square to a blind man."

Aizen took a brief sip of tea. "Hadn't he also challenged you to a rematch? Rock, paper, scissors, I believe it was?"

A small smile crept onto Tousen's lips. "Oh yes, being the sore loser that he is. I beat him 33,978,945 times to 3."

Aizen allowed himself an amused smirk.

"You two have _way _too much time on your hands."

* * *

Gin recoiled slightly; the guy was only three feet away – there was no need to scream. "Err…do I know you?" he asked slowly and cautiously. Under the table, his right hand closed around a convenient can of _Rape Alert!_ pepper spray.

The figure stepped a bit closer, so Gin could see his face. The man had a slender, pale face, with greasy long hair, long, thin eyes, and a white eye patch. He wore tan cargo pants, and on his plain white t-shirt were four words displayed adamantly in thick red print: LET'S ROCK THE CASBAH. His upper lip was drawn back in a grin, revealing immaculately white upper incisors.

"Gin, it's me! You know, from the orthodontist? Remember, it was you, me, that one blonde guy with the tongue ring, and the creepy pale dude with the yellow teeth and purple nails?" the gaunt figure insisted.

Gin's head suddenly jerked upwards; he clapped his hands in recognition. "Ah, Nnoitra Jiruga!" Gin exclaimed with fond recognition, "Yer that one guy who tried to molest that one lady, right?"

Nnoitra's smile faltered. "Eh, well, maybe _molest _isn't the best word. It was more like grope..er, squeeze..um, well..uh…Look, it was what any man would've done!" he spluttered defensively. "When she reached over to grab one of those tools, her chest was in the right place and I saw the opportunity to-"

"You pathetic, lowly excuse for an arrancar. It's a wonder that a lecherous jackal like you isn't serving time in a small padded cell."

A remarkably monotone voice came from behind Nnoitra, who whirled around angrily, a cynical sneer set upon his face. Gin leaned over to see who was behind the tall hollow.

The man who said the derogatory comment stood calmly with his hands in the pockets of his faded black denim jeans. His jet black hair was matted down by his hollow mask, which covered the left side. His face was as pale as death; the only color came from his jade green eyes. The look was completed by a black a and white striped polo shirt. His eyebrows slanted ever so slightly upward as he regarded Nnoitra with a look of pitiless disdain. Other than that, he expressed no expression whatsoever.

The arrancar introduced himself as Ulquiorra Cifer. Still standing with great posture, he gestured toward three figures standing behind him. "I believe these men are also here for the registration," he stated plainly. Gin took a quick look at each of them.

The first one was extremely tall, possibly even dwarfing Nnoitra. He had pleasantly tan skin (Gin was envious) and wore a simple navy blue muscle shirt unzipped, revealing bulging muscles. He called himself Yammy Riyalgo.

The second figure stood stock still; his arms were folded neatly behind his back. His bald scalp was the impeccable shade of dark chocolate, and his ears were adorned with skull-and-crossbones earrings. His outfit consisted of loose-fitting martial arts pants and a plain gray sweatshirt. His name was Zommari Le Roux.

Gin nearly vomited when he saw the third person. He had wavy pink hair, which was parted neatly down the middle, and a pair of glasses was perched upon his nose. He wore a white blazer unbuttoned over a neon pink t-shirt and (Gin gagged) skin-tight blue jeans, which showed off the curves of his hips perfectly. With a small smile, he introduced himself as Szayel-Aporro Grantz.

Gin handed the four men – and Szayel – their golden passes, and had them take their seats. He looked down at his checkbook. _Let's see, _Gin thought, _there are ten espada, and seven seats are taken. So, ten minus seven equals-_

"SOSUKE AIZEN!!! I AM HERE TO GRACE YOU WITH MY PRESENCE!!! ALL LESSER BEINGS SHOULD KNEEL BEFORE ME!!!" a loud voice roared. Almost everyone's head (except Starrk's, who slept peacefully) immediately swiveled to find the source of the sudden announcement.

Their eyes were met by a muscular old man who sat atop a large alabaster chair, which was heavily decorated with ornate patterns. The man donned an equally as elaborate fur-lined coat that cut off at his ankles. The chair was held up by six pallbearers, who looked as if one more step would cause them to collapse. The man jumped off the chair with surprising agility – his feet hit the silver sand with a soft THUD. He approached Gin and stood with his arms crossed imperiously.

Gin stared back at the man, breaking out his trademark grin. "Can I help ya?" he asked amiably.

The figure snorted. "No," he growled, "but you can help yourself, to my presence. I, Baraggan Luisenbarn, undisputed King of Hollows, am here!"

Gin stared at Baraggan indifferently. He said, "Uh-huh. That's great. Now I'll jus' give ya this here pass, n' you can take your seat over there."

Baraggan stared at Gin incredulously, as if the former shinigami had just slapped him across the face. "You want _**me**_, Baraggan Luisenbarn, to sit in one of _**those**_ meager plastic chairs?!!" He harrumphed, and continued, "I refuse to sit in any sort of seat unless it's fit for a king!!"

Gin's smile dropped. He began cautiously, "Uh, sir, these are the only seats available." He pronounced "only" as if he were talking to a severely retarded child. "Now, I jus' need ya to-"

"NO!!!!" the old man roared, his yell echoing off the walls of Las Noches, "I SHALL _NOT_ SIT IN _ANY_ ONE OF THOSE _DISGRACEFUL_ CHAIRS, AND THAT IS _**FINAL**_!!!!"

Gin gave a resigned sigh, pinching the middle of his brow between his thumb and forefinger.

_I hate my life. Hate it, hate it, hate it, I just HATE IT, _Gin thought with increasing frustration. _For the love of all things good,_ _could this old fart just shut UP?!_

As if reading his thoughts, a man suddenly growled, "Yo, old man. Do us all a favor and shut the fuck up."

The man who said this wore a black leather biker's jacket with the sleeves rolled up and the front unzipped, showing a plain gray t-shirt that he wore underneath. The look was accentuated by ripped dark blue jeans, from which hung a silver chain. But what Gin noticed the most was his hair, which was a shocking shade of sky blue. Completely ignoring Baraggan's angry protests, the man strode over to Gin and told him that his name was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

Now that Grimmjow had taken his seat (Baraggan decidedly sat back in his throne, much to the dismay of the pallbearers), Gin did a head count. Starrk's head lay back on his chair; his arms dangled limply and his legs protruded outwards. Yammy and Lilynette were engaged in a fierce game of rock, paper scissors. Szayel was flipping through the latest issue of _Boring Science Digest_. Zommari sat Indian-style on the ground with his eyes closed and his fingers woven together in some intricate position. Nnoitra upheld his fierce glare at Ulquiorra, who countered with his unwaveringly stoical gaze; an air of enmity hung between the two. Grimmjow coolly picked at his teeth with a toothpick. Finally, Baraggan was bitching about how the ground was too soft, or the fur was too furry, or something like that.

As he continued to count, two large shadows hovered over him. Gin froze; he could recognize the size and shape of those things _anywhere_. He shot right out of his seat, arms outstretched.

"Rangiku! It's youuuuuuu!!!!" He shouted with a smile so wide his face could have easily split in two.

His joy was abruptly ended by a firm bitchslap. Once he actually opened his eyes, he sat back in his seat with his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

The slender woman that stood before him had her arms crossed under her chest. She had noticeably messy blonde hair, which strikingly contrasted her caramel-colored skin. Her eyelids were half shut in a sarcastic "Seriously…?" expression, and her mouth was obscured by a shimmering silk scarf. She wore a grassy green turtleneck with sleeves that ended at her palms. She also donned simple blue jeans that covered the tops of her inch-high heeled boots. In a quiet but firm voice, she introduced herself as Tia Halibel.

As he sat with his head in his hands, Gin realized: He had ten arrancar! There were 10 espada! Everyone's here! Gin called everyone to attention. They gathered in a semicircle in front of him.

Gin began, "Okay, everyone, as y'all know-"

"AAAAAAARRRRRGHHH!!!! IT'S GONNA SWALLOW MAH SOULLLLL!!!!!!" a random hollow shouted as it ran across the sands of Hueco Mundo before spontaneously exploding.

Gin blinked and continued, "As y'all know, yer here to serve under Aizen as his faithful ten Espada. But before ya start, you'll be put through a series of tests. Are there any questions?"

Yammy raised his hand. "Will there be free hors d' oeuvres?" he asked excitedly.

Gin stared at the man. "No, Yammy, there won't be appetizers," he sighed. Yammy slumped dejectedly. "Any _other _questions?"

Everyone – even Starrk, who Lilynette woke up with an abrasive kick in the tenders – raised their hands.

"No? Good! Now follow me!" Gin said as he smiled brightly, callously ignoring each of them. Nine of them followed Gin; all except for Baraggan, who didn't budge. He sat atop his throne with his hands crossed firmly.

Gin stopped walking and stood stock still. "Aren't ya gonna follow?" he asked slowly. Ulquiorra noticed a massive aura of reiatsu gathering around the man. He took a slow step back.

Baraggan guffawed. "Make me," he responded defiantly.

Gin turned his head – and _only _his head – and stared at Baraggan; his eyes were opened in a menacing glare.

"Shoot 'em dead, _Shinso!_" A blade shot from under Gin's garb, piercing the fabric. It impaled three of Baraggan's servants. They screamed with pain and fear as blood poured from the second set of holes in their bodies. As they collapsed, the throne collapsed with them, sending Baraggan tumbling head-over-heels into the sand.

"Wow, Foxface just kicked ass and took names," Grimmjow thought aloud, an amused grin breaking out on his face.

Gin quietly turned his back on the fallen espada and strolled into Las Noches. Baraggan stood up and brushed himself off in a vain attempt to salvage his pride. The ten arrancar followed suit.

* * *

The ten figures found themselves in a large, windowless room. The walls were painted a clean shade of white. Gin stood in the doorway on the other side of the room.

Once they were fully inside, Grimmjow said, "Hey Ichimaru. What the hell are we supposed to do in here?"

Gin smiled wider than usual. He stepped back. "Have a good time!" he shouted cheerfully.

Suddenly, the doors slammed shut with an ominous CLANK!! Hysterical laughter could be faintly heard from the outside. The arrancar were locked in!

* * *

Gin reclined in a LA-Z Boy that was (due to Aizen's lack of design smarts) placed smack dab in the middle of a small kitchen. He drank his iced tea with a happy grin; he was glad that that job was over – now he could just _relax_. He was so calm he didn't even notice Aizen walk into the room.

"So, Gin, you seem pretty relaxed. I assume that you think you've done your job pretty well," Aizen stated with calm eloquence.

Gin's grin widened. "Yep. I lured them right into that trap just like ya asked, Aizen!" he noted cheerfully.

An amused smile appeared on Aizen's face. "Just wanted to let you know, **you missed one.**"

Gin's smile was wiped clean off his face. His glass of iced tea hit the ground with a loud shatter.

"**MOTHER F-**

* * *

**Okay, you all know what to do: R & R. Also, if there are any complaints on the names of the Espadas (HARRIBEL, not HALIBEL dipwad!), please tell me. If I get around to it, I'll fix them. Have a nice day.**


	3. Trapped!

**Like my new summary? I do too. **

* * *

**Chapter 2**

A murmur of discontent hung through the air. Lilynette was fidgeting nervously. Ulquiorra's pupils glanced at one door, then the other, and then he finally bowed his head. Starrk had, not surprisingly, fallen back asleep, blissfully unaware that the arrancar were trapped. Grimmjow, Yammy, Baraggan, and Nnoitra looked particularly pissed. After what seemed like forever, Grimmjow broke the silence with his four words of wisdom:

"WHAT THE _**FUCK**_, ICHIMARU?!!!"

Without further hesitation, he hurtled towards the door with his arm outstretched. Red energy swirled around his palm. Suddenly, a large red beam blasted from his palm and crashed into the door. The noise sounded like an eighteen-wheeler crashing into a wall. Grimmjow roared as he thrust his hand forward, driving the cero even deeper. Winds raged as reiatsu met reinforced steel with a deafening crash. Szayel had to shield his face with his forearms as his pink locks whipped about – his eyes were shut tight. After about 5 minutes, the beam began weakening, and eventually dissipated. The recoil sent Grimmjow crashing to the ground.

Grimmjow lifted himself off of his stomach and craned his neck, eager to see the fruits of his labor. The other arrancar also gazed as the smoke cleared. As the blue-haired espada stared, his eyes narrowed, and his lips drew back in a snarl of rage and frustration. Szayel's eyebrows rose with furtive amusement.

The door didn't have a single scratch! Szayel quietly strode over to Grimmjow and placed a hand on his shoulder. Grimmjow's head swiveled to meet Szayel's sly grin.

"Well, now. Aren't _we_ the apprehensive one," the pink-haired man scoffed, his mischievous grin still set upon his face. Grimmjow angrily shrugged the hand off his shoulder.

"**KKRRRRSHHHHKKKTTTTT!!!**"A speaker mounted on the ceiling buzzed. "**KKKRRRRSSHHH** –ahem... Testing, one, two, three. Ah, there we go. Welcome, talented individuals," a calmingly deep voice boomed.

"Foxface, that you?!" Grimmjow snarled, "'Cause if it is, you'd better be ready, 'cause I'm gonna-"

"No, Grimmjow, this is not Gin," the radio interrupted, "I am Kaname Tousen. I assume you're wondering why you are all here."

Nnoitra rolled his eye. "Yeah, ya don't _say_," he mumbled sarcastically.

Tousen continued, "This is the first portion of the test. You must test your intellect by finding an escape route from this room. There is no set amount of time before the doors open, so you have plenty of time to devise a plan. However, you will not be acting alone; by being confined to this small space, you will have no choice but to interact with your fellow arrancar."

Halibel glanced upwards. "So, basically, you're saying that we need to cooperate to escape?"

There was a brief pause. "Yes…something like that," Tousen replied vaguely. Halibel's eyes narrowed.

There was a sudden hiss as a peculiar hatch opened up on the ceiling. Swords rained down from the hole. Most of them were swords; however, there was a battle axe and a weird crescent-shaped object thrown in the mix.

"It wouldn't be quite complete without your weapons, now, would it?" Silent amusement could be heard in Tousen's voice.

The arrancar all reached for their blades. Most of them just placed them down gently. However, there were some exceptions.

"_Arrogante_ has returned to me!!!" Baraggan announced, holding it up as if it were the Holy Grail, "With it, I shall rule you ALL!!"

"_Santa Teresa!!!!_" Nnoitra squealed like a child on Christmas Day. He hugged his zanpakutō close, as if it were a newborn child. "Those cruel men took you away from me! But now you're here with me, safe and- er…" He looked up to find nine pairs of eyes staring at him. His face reddened slightly.

"Your manliness is quite lacking, I see," Szayel said, stifling laughter.

"Yeah, well, I'm not the one with testicles glued to his sword!!" Nnoitra yelled defensively.

"They are most certainly NOT testicles," Szayel huffed, "they are _obviously_ scientific models of _atoms_."

"Hmph. Pathetic, both of you," Halibel muttered. Her right hand subconsciously stroked the hilt of Tiburón.

Nine white paper bags then fell from the hole to the arrancar below. Each bag had a neat handwritten label on it; one said "Ulquiorra", another said "Starrk & Lilynette", etc.

Tousen explained, "In each of these bags are special provisions that I have selected especially for their respective individuals. Depending on whom they're assigned to, they may last more or less one day. Enjoy." And with that, the radio buzzed off.

Each arrancar grabbed his/her bag and rummaged through the contents. Each hand emerged with a different item.

"I got tuna in a can, hair gel, and beef jerky," Grimmjow said incredulously.

"I got some magazine called _Playboy_, three cans of spinach, and a tongue scraper," Nnoitora announced. He did a double take at the magazine, and began to shamelessly ogle at its contents.

"We got pillows, aspirin, and hot sauce," Lilynette chimed. She turned towards Baraggan, whose brow was furrowed in a deep frown as he peered into his bag. "What did _you _get, Baraggan?" she inquired.

The old man threw the bag and its contents at the wall and crossed his arms hotly. If he were any younger, that action could have been described as pouting.

"I got a rock."

* * *

**Meanwhile…**

Gin seethed with rage; massive plumes of reiatsu flared from his body. Each breath hissed through his clenched teeth. As he sat at the cheap plastic table – _again_ – he grabbed large tufts of his once-wavy hair in his clenched fists. Last time he checked, he was up to anger buddy #497. The man couldn't remember the last time he had been so angry.

"Stupid Aizen. Stupid Tousen. Stupid, stupid, STUPID Espada," Gin muttered to no one in particular, "I could be doin' anythin' else right now."

He gave a frustrated sigh. "Ah well, probably shouldn't be gettin' so worked up; it'll only make matters worse. I should just think happy thoughts. Minty fresh breath...a hot cup of tea…Baraggan's head on a stick…" His smile resurfaced. "Actually, I feel better already!" Glancing at his checklist, he read off the names, "Ulquiorra Cifer…Yammy Riyalgo…yadda yadda…okay, so I'm waiting on…"

"**ME?**"

An astoundingly deep – almost mechanical – voice boomed from behind Gin. He jumped practically five feet in the air; his hair stood up on end. _Sweet Jesus! _Gin thought, his heart pounding in his chest, _where the hell did __he __come from?! _He quickly swiveled around to meet the mysterious figure, who stood in the shadows.

Not much could be seen of the man, because he wore a clean mahogany nylon robe that trailed down to his ankles. The ruffles at the ends of his wide sleeves met each other in front of his waist; it was safe to assume that his hands were folded neatly, since they were both hidden. His head and neck were completely covered by a kendo helmet.

"Oh, uh, h-hiya there. C-can I have yer name?" Gin spluttered between breaths; he was still recovering from his potential heart attack.

"_Oh, yes, of course_. **AARONIERO ARRURUERIE,**" the man said. He extended his left hand out in front of him – it was covered by a dark ragged leather glove.

As Gin shook Aaroniero's hand he wondered, _I coulda sworn his voice changed; it was like I was talkin' to two different people. Huh, 'guess puberty wasn't very kind to this guy._

As he removed his hand, Gin began, "Um, Mister Arra…um, Arouru…eh, Arkham-"

"_Arruruerie,"_ Aaroniero corrected.

"Ahem…uh, yeah. Mr. Arruruerie, I hope ya realize that ya shoulda been here _three hours ago_."

"_Yeah, well, punctuality _**ISN'T MY STRONG SUIT,**" the two voices spoke in tandem, "**IT'S PRETTY POINTLESS **_to __deplore the past,__isn't it?_"

Gin shrugged; he wasn't exactly in the mood to get all philosophical. With a sweep of his arms, he gestured towards the entrance to Las Noches.

"Care to have some tea?" he asked pleasantly, "The other arrancar will be joining us shortly."

"**AND JUST HOW SHORTLY**_ is that?"_

Gin only smiled in response.

* * *

It had been at least a couple hours since the doors were locked. No one did anything other than mope around. The arrancar were decidedly lethargic; ever since Grimmjow's futile attempt, no one bothered to do anything. Supplies were running low, and patience was running thin. It was a wonder that anyone could retain even a smidgen of their sanity. Though it was never discussed, it was obvious that they all hated a certain wavy-haired, incessantly smiling man.

Lilynette took action. "So what, are we gonna just sit around all day until we gotta eat each other?!" she demanded.

"Yeah, pretty much," Nnoitra replied flatly. He wasn't even looking at her; he was visually devouring the last of his magazine.

"Well, who _asked_ you?!" Lilynette shot back.

"I think you did, pipsqueak."

"Ex_cuse_ me?!" Lilynette fumed. "WHAT did you just call me?!"

"You heard me. PIP. SQUEAK."

Lilynette took a threatening step forward. "You know, you are _damn_ lucky that Starrk isn't awake right now."

"Ooh, language," Nnoitra sneered, "Your big, bad bodyguard's gonna twist me into a knot. That is, if the worthless lazy-ass actually _wakes up!_"

"Oh that DOES it!" Lilynette hissed. She lunged at the lanky man, but she immediately halted when a blade was held in front of her; the cutting end of the katana was pointed towards her. Two glimmering green eyes stared down at her.

Ulquiorra sighed. The book he was reading in his left hand (a genuine Stephen King novel, compliments of Kaname Tousen) snapped shut. "I'm certain that we could be doing something more constructive than picking fights with perverts," he said. "Bickering will get us nowhere."

"Hmph. Stupid emo," Lilynette sulked. The quiet man removed his blade from Lilynette's path and resumed reading _"The Dark Half"_.

"Stupid emo or not, Ulquiorra has a point," Halibel reasoned, "We should focus more on how we're supposed to escape this room."

"Besides, you should not call Ulquiorra a 'stupid emo'," Zommari said, his eyes still closed as he sat in meditation. The arrancar turned towards the reverent figure; this was the first time they had heard him speak. "I'm positive that many fangirls out there would have your head for saying such a thing," he added.

"Fangirls?" Halibel inquired, "What are 'fangirls'?"

Zommari cracked an eye open. "I guess I didn't explain, huh," he muttered. "I possess a peculiar meditative ability. When I am in silent meditation for a substantial amount of time, I accumulate enough spiritual pressure to activate a seventh sense."

Halibel's eyebrows – that's right, _both_ of them – rose. "A _seventh_ sense?"

"Yes," Zommari replied, "It is the sense that grants me the ability to **break the fourth wall**."

There was a bemused silence.

"What in _hell_ is a fucking _fourth wall_?!" Grimmjow growled.

Zommari sighed. "It is very complex, and I don't understand it fully myself," he admitted, "but somehow, I am able to communicate with **another dimension.**"

Szayel gasped. "You mean," he muttered breathlessly, "there is another realm BEYOND the living?!"

Zommari nodded assent. "As a matter of fact, there is an otherworldly being that is chronicling this very moment. I have been trying to contact this entity; if anyone would know how to escape, it would be him."

"And…?"

The dark man shook his head somberly. "No luck."

"Awww, nuts," Lilynette mumbled, her shoulders sagging, "We could've gotten somewhere!"

"But we _didn't_, did we, now?" Nnoitra simpered. "That's because we're stuck here _thinking_, when we should just _blast_ our way out!"

Halibel sighed, trying in vain to mask her increasing frustration. "In case you haven't noticed," she said slowly, "Grimmjow here has already tried that. It didn't exactly work, did it?"

"She's right, Nnoitra," Szayel added, "Boredom notwithstanding, it would appear quite pointless to engage in such…" He sighed. "…_barbaric_ methods."

"Besides, how could ya possibly do any damage with those thin arms of yours?" Lilynette wondered aloud.

Nnoitra's one eye narrowed.

"I mean just _look_ at those arms! I've seen string beans with more meat than those!" Lilynette continued, oblivious to Nnoitra's increasing anger. "Not to mention how skinny you are! How does a scrawny dude like you lift a big blade like that?! How many abs do you have? One-half?! It's a wonder that the slightest breeze doesn't knock you over! There's also that long hair of yours. Who're you tryin' to be?! Michael Jackson?? I mean come _on_; even his hair was less greasy than yours! And your _face-_"

"_THAT'S ENOUGH OUT OF YOU, YOU ANNOYING LITTLE RUNT!!!_"

Nnoitra lunged at Lilynette, who was too caught off guard to do anything. His eye was a thin slit, and his teeth were grit in a furious scowl.

_**WHACK!!**_

His foot met the right side of the smaller girl's face. The hit sent her flying back into the wall behind her. She hit the wall with a loud WHAM!!! – small cracks formed in the whitewashed plaster – before slumping to the ground. A trickle of blood crept out of the corner of her mouth. Gingerly touching the right side of her face, she winced; her body shuddered in pain. She looked up at Nnoitra, who hovered over her, sneering triumphantly.

"You shouldn't have done that…," she muttered.

The corners of Nnoitra's mouth turned downwards. "Really..? Guess I'd better finish the job," he said coldly. With an audible _WHOOSH_, he brought Santa Teresa around and grabbed it with both hands. The blade was held downwards; the bladed curve of the crescent hovered ominously over Lilynette's head like a guillotine. The girl didn't even flinch. Nnoitra brought Santa Teresa downwards-

*WHAP*

Nnoitra's blade was caught cleanly; it never came close to its target. No matter how hard Nnoitra tried, Santa Teresa didn't budge. The gaunt man was trying so hard to remove his weapon from the vicegrip that he didn't even look up to notice who interrupted him. Once he did, however, his eye widened in shock.

It was Starrk. He held the sharp end of the blade in his bare right hand – his palm was unscathed. Halibel's eyes widened slightly; she hadn't even seen him move! One second he was lying flat on his face, fast asleep, and the next thing she knew, he intercepted Nnoitra's strike with a glare that could have burned through iron.

"Hey, you...I don't know your name, but could you please tell me why you're hitting Lilynette?" Starrk mumbled. The words were so frighteningly calm that they sent shivers up Ulquiorra's spine; and believe me, that did NOT happen often.

"What's it to you?!" Nnoitra spat back, "The little runt had it coming! Worthless bitch."

Starrk's eyes narrowed. What happened next was little more than a blur.

Starrk swung his arm over his head, swinging Nnoitra's entire body – for some stupid reason, he still grabbed Santa Teresa's handle – along with it. He let go, and Nnoitra was sent flying into the wall on the opposite side of the room. His zanpakutō flew out of his grasp and landed with a metallic K-K-KLANKKK. As Nnoitra emerged from the smoldering crater in the wall, a firm hand clamped around his neck. It was weird; the grip didn't suffocate him, it just held him. He looked down to find Starrk staring back up at him.

"What are you gonna do?" Nnoitra grinned mirthlessly, "Choke me to death?! Aizen would kill you!"

Starrk shrugged, not breaking his gaze away from his prey. "No, I'm just going to kick you, and see how _you_ like it."

Nnoitra's eye widened in horror as he realized what Starrk meant. "Don't you DARE-"

"Too late, man," Starrk replied. He swung his leg upwards and…

* * *

Aizen's eyes narrowed as he stared into his tea. The surface vibrated ever so slightly; the cup rattled daintily against its saucer, and ripples made their trips to the brim. He, Tousen, Gin, and Aaroniero were all enjoying tea around a small conference table.

Gin cocked his head curiously. "Somethin' wrong, Aizen? Ya seem a bit tense."

Aizen's eyes moved upwards from his cup to the man. "Actually, Gin, you're right, I am a bit tense," he stated calmly, "You see, I've sensed a disturbance."

"**A DISTURBANCE?**" Aaroniero asked, both intrigued and confused, "_In what? You don't mean the force, _**DO YOU?**"

Aizen shook his head solemnly, a grim expression set upon his face. "No, Aaroniero, not the force. **In my tea.**"

Gin and Tousen simultaneously gasped. A disturbance in the tea?! That only meant one of two things. The first was that they had intruders. But it was most likely the second one.

Someone just got PWNED.

* * *

Each of the arrancar stared in amazement. Even Ulquiorra's eyebrows were raised. Szayel and Yammy couldn't stop laughing; they doubled over as tears streamed down their faces.

Starrk's foot was nestled firmly between Nnoitra's legs. Nnoitra himself was hoisted up on his tiptoes – his eye was open as wide as could be, and his mouth jutted outwards in a perfect O. He hadn't even made a sound; the impact was _that _hard. Grimmjow could've sworn that there was steam emanating from where Starrk's foot was well-acquainted with Nnoitra's flesh.

"Now that your little…er, _episode_ is over, we can focus on an escape route," Szayel reminded the group, wiping a tear from his eye. He almost felt sorry for Nnoitra – _almost._

Starrk removed his leg. Nnoitra's presumably unconscious body crumpled to the ground. Halibel remembered to give Starrk a high-five.

"Hel_lo_, Pinky," Grimmjow snarled, "we _can't! _We need, like, some sort of _battering ram_ to bust down that door! Do we have a battering ram?! NO!!"

Szayel's chin was caught between his thumb and forefinger. "Battering ram…," he repeated dreamily. He looked down at Nnoitra. His mouth spread into a thoughtful grin.

"Everyone, I have an idea."

XXXXXXX

"Are you sure this'll work?" Yammy asked uncertainly.

Szayel shrugged. "If it doesn't, too bad. Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he replied halfheartedly.

"Well, why don't _you _help, then?!"

"Because I'm the mastermind behind this plan, and masterminds don't do heavy-lifting. Now get into position."

The plan seemed simple enough. Each holding one of his limbs, Grimmjow, Yammy, Zommari, and Starrk hoisted Nnoitra's body into position. He was held parallel to the ground, with his head facing forward. They swung his body back and forth as they prepared themselves.

"On the count of three," Szayel commanded, "One…two…"

* * *

_Ugh, what happened,_ the man thought. _One minute I'm fighting that bastard Starrk, and the next minute I ended up here…_

"THREE!!"

_Argh, that __hurt__! My head is pounding already- wait. It feels like I'm…moving! I can't move my arms or legs! What is this?!_

He craned his neck upwards to look up in front of him. Once his head was facing completely forward, his eye widened in horror.

_MOTHER OF-_

* * *

_**WHAM!!!!!!**_

The sound of the impact resounded throughout the entire room. Using Sonído, the four men had flown straight towards the wall. Nnoitra's face was now embedded in the metal. Szayel walked over to check their progress. After leaning over Nnoitra's head and inspecting the damage, he turned towards the four Espada.

"Congratulations," he said with a smirk, "you dented it."

They all heaved a defeated sigh. That was their best try. They dropped Nnoitra's body to the ground; this time, he was out COLD.

"Damn it!" Grimmjow shouted, punching the steel door, "We've tried EVERYTHING!! We'll NEVER GET OUT OF HERE- hey, what the hell are you doing?!"

Ulquiorra had stood up and was calmly approaching the door – or so they all thought. He was actually walking towards the wall with no apparent haste. Reaching his destination, he placed his right forefinger on the wall. He closed his eyes – green energy began to collect around his finger. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.

_**KRAKOW!!!**_

A green light crashed through the wall – bits and pieces of siding were thrown everywhere. Ulquiorra seemed unfazed. The wall had been reduced to nothing, and the arrancar finally had a way out.

Everyone else was speechless. Lilynette's jaw scraped the floor. Ulquiorra turned on his heels and stared at them.

"You were so focused on the door that you completely forgot about your surroundings," he stated simply.

Szayel placed his head in his hands; why didn't _he _think of that?!

"Remind me _never_ to trust doors again," Grimmjow muttered to Starrk, "Doors suck. From here on out, I'll just keep bustin' through walls like ol' Emo-face just did." He grinned. "Besides, it's a hell of a lot more fun."

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

Gin stood a few yards away from the hole, clapping slowly and displaying his trademark grin.

"Hey, people! Congratulations! Now you can begin the next phase of- um…" His face dropped. "What's with the looks..?" he asked cautiously, taking a nervous step back.

Nine pairs of eyes glared back at him; each were a set of thin slits. Gin took another step back.

"You are dead meat, Foxface. DEAD. MEAT." Grimmjow growled.

"Oh, geez-"

But before Gin could finish, nine arrancar were shooting towards him; their blades were aimed at his face and they had murderous looks in their eyes. Gin was about to turn around and run for his life, when a calm-yet-commanding voice boomed:

"STOP."

As if held back by invisible threads, the nine assaulters froze dead in their tracks. Literally, they were FROZEN. Grimmjow – who had leaped at Gin like a ferocious tiger – hung in midair; his right arm was still outstretched. He looked pretty confused.

_How does he __do__ that?! _Gin thought with amazement. He turned towards the figure that had halted the arrancar. "Hey there, Aizen," he smiled.

Aizen smiled back. With a snap of his fingers, he unfroze the arrancar. Grimmjow fell ungracefully to the floor.

"Now that I've gotten you attention," Aizen began, "I congratulate you on your escape."

"What the fucking hell was that?!" Grimmjow snarled, obviously uninterested in Aizen's compliments.

"Relax, Grimmjow," Aizen said with a smile, "It's just my way of asserting my authority."

Ulquiorra brushed himself off. "So, shall we begin the next portion of our test?" he asked calmly.

Aizen smiled disarmingly. "Of course, Ulquiorra," he replied politely.

"But first, how about a feast?"

* * *

**Sorry I took so long to update. I was thrown off by my Thanksgiving story, visiting relatives, and whatnot. I'll hopefully be quicker with chapter 3!**


	4. Nice Threads!

**Rated T for intense changing of viewpoints. LOL.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The arrancar were confused. What kind of rigorous test involves a feast?!

As if reading their thoughts, Aizen said, "It will allow us to further explain the rest of the test. Besides, you all must be starved after that little…let's say…_trial._"

Szayel, throwing a pointed glare at Gin, replied, "Yes, I am quite famished, and I presume that my fellow comrades are as well. Dinner sounds like a splendid idea."

"Well, ya can't go dressed for some fancy dinner in _those_ filthy things o' yers," Gin said, pointing at the arrancar's clothes. The nine looked down at their clothes; they _were_ a tad ragged.

Actually, 'ragged' was an understatement. Grimmjow's jacket had been blown to bits, and his shirt was practically nonexistent; only a few fibers draped it loosely over his chest. Starrk and Lilynette were still dressed in the tattered rags in which they had come – Lilynette had to tear a piece off of hers to form a makeshift bandage around the wound Nnoitra had inflicted. Even Halibel's turtleneck was slightly worn; she seemed like she was having trouble holding the scarf around her mouth. The only one out of all the future Espada that looked presentable was Aaroniero, who had just entered the room.

"Now that ya catch my drift, I think some new uniforms are in order. Whaddya say, hmm?"

The nine exchanged glances.

"I don't see why not," Halibel said nonchalantly.

"Feh…I suppose that my clothes are kind of worn," Ulquiorra mumbled, picking at the hem of his polo.

Lilynette's eyes glimmered with excitement. "Ooh! Sounds like fun!"

Gin smiled. "'Kay then, if there aren't any objections, you 'kin jus' follow me, 'n-"

"_**FUCK **_NO," Grimmjow objected, "There is no way _in HELL _I'm gonna go with you again after that shitty trick you just pulled! I am not laughing, Foxface. NOT. LAUGHING."

Gin looked slightly taken aback. "Do I really look that suspicious?" he asked innocently.

He was met by nine sarcastic gazes. His shoulders sagged.

"That was a joke, ya know…," he sighed as he turned to lead them out.

The ten arrancar followed somewhat cautiously.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well, we're here folks!" Gin announced, spreading his arms wide. He stood in front of two gigantic double doors that, not surprisingly, were painted white.

"You call _that _a closet?" Halibel asked incredulously; the doors were at least 20 meters high – at _least_.

"Apparently, you've never seen Gin's room," Tousen chuckled. Gin shot him an irritated look.

"Aaaanyways…," Gin continued, turning back to the ten arrancar, "since y'all are here to serve under Aizen, me 'n Tousen thought it'd be smart for ya to all wear matching uniforms. Y'know, so that we can feel like one big family!"

"In a dysfunctional sort of way," Szayel muttered.

Ignoring, Szayel's comment, Gin grabbed the handles of both doors. He inhaled deeply through his nose, bracing himself. He planted his feet firmly on the ground in a readying stance. With no further hesitation, he brought his arms back, attempting to open the doors.

They didn't budge a single inch.

He tried again, this time throwing his entire body backwards in a massive heave. His grip slipped, and he fell flat on his back. The stubborn doors remained firmly shut.

_Epic FAIL, _Grimmjow thought amusedly.

"Tousen!" Gin wailed, not bothering to get up, "How 'bout a little _help _here, eh?!"

Tousen shrugged. He walked over to the side of the doorway; there was a rectangular switch jutting out. Grabbing the handle with one hand, he pulled it across the little groove it was embedded in. The switch slid easily, and the doors began to open. Once they were fully opened, many of the arrancar gasped.

What lay ahead of them could only be described as a sea of white; every single piece of clothing was the shade of snow. The room was filled to the very top with white jackets. Halibel could've sworn she saw clouds where the ceiling should have been. However, no two jackets were alike; each one was different, ranging from overcoats to albs to even bomber jackets. Szayel literally fell to his knees in awe.

Gin still lay on his back with his arms propping him up, staring dumbfounded at the now open passageway. He was utterly speechless.

Tousen walked over to the wavy-haired man. "Automatic swit-"

"I KNOW."

* * *

By now the arrancar had entered the massive room and searched through what it contained – all except for Szayel, who stayed behind with Tousen.

"How did you even _make _all these items of clothing?!" he asked curiously.

Tousen replied, "Well, there isn't much to do in Hueco Mundo, and Gin had already started on a few, so I thought, 'Hey, why not…'"

Then Szayel said, "But it's all so _white_!"

Tousen raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" he asked in a flat voice.

Szayel continued, "I mean honestly, just look at the lack of diversity! I suppose you thought that making them all the same color would instill unity amongst us Espada, hm? But it's all so dull! We're an elite army, not sanitation workers!!! Talk about an utter lack of design sense! You two must have nothing better to do than design such visually-lacking uniforms!! Imagine what would happen if I spilled tea on my fresh new outfit! I would go into battle, and what would my opponent say?! 'Oh, Szayel-Aporro, you have a stain on your jacket.' It would be so completely mortifying!! No one in the right mind goes into battle without first donning the proper attire!! You could have chosen any other color to clash against the pitifully drab world that is Hueco Mundo! Vermilion! Chartreuse! Violet! Periwinkle! Beige! But noooo, you chose plain white!!! Honestly, what kind of…"

His voice trailed off as he noticed the look Tousen was giving him. It was a mix between scorn, disbelief, and smug amusement.

Szayel awkwardly adjusted his glasses. "I'll shut up now…"

"Great idea," Tousen smiled.

As Tousen and Szayel shared an awkward silence, Starrk approached Gin.

"Hey, Ichimaru, do you have anything more…simple?" asked Starrk, glancing around through half-lidded eyes. "All this stuff is just too complex for me. Maybe just a vest or something would be nice."

Gin scratched the back of his head in thought. "I dunno," he admitted, "lemme check."

He turned around and began to rummage through a small chest that conveniently lay next to him. Only the top of his waist could be seen, because the other half was deep inside the vast chest. Gin's body suddenly stopped moving, as if he discovered something; in fact, he did. He turned towards Starrk with his hands behind his back.

"Yer in luck," Gin grinned, "I've got jus' da thing for ya!"

"Ta-da!!!" He brought his hands around from behind his back, revealing what they held.

Starrk grimaced.

* * *

Others could only watch as tensions flared between Baraggan and Aaroniero. They stood face-to-face in front of an elaborate jacket that was complete with frills, ruffles, and everything. It even included a spotless pair of gentleman's gloves.

"_For the last time,_ **I CALLED FIRST DIBS ON THE COOL REGAL OUTFIT,**" Aaroniero said.

"And _I _said that such a kingly uniform could only belong to someone of kingly status!" Baraggan retorted. "And who better than me, the almighty God-King of hollows, Baraggan Lu-"

"**I KNOW YOUR GODDAMN NAME!!!**" Aaroniero shouted peevishly.

_That's tellin' him, _Grimmjow thought with a smirk.

"_It's always 'Baraggan Lusienbarn' this, and 'King of Hollows' that!! _**DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT NO ONE GIVES TWO SHITS?!** _Sheesh, I only been with you for one hour, and I already have half a mind to rip that crown off your face and shove it up your-_"

"Point taken, Aaroniero," Ulquiorra interrupted, "Besides, is it really worth it? Just look at those tawdry ruffles. And its length makes it unsuitable for combat; you'll trip over it."

"Who're you to talk?!" Baraggan shot back. "Just look at you!"

Ulquiorra glanced down at his own outfit. He donned a thick overcoat that reached down to his toes, with sleeves with thick cuffs around his palms. He wore the hood over his head, casting an ominous shadow over his eyes; his glimmering green eyes peered through the darkness. He didn't seem to find anything wrong with it.

"Who're you supposed to be?!" the old man spat, "Death?!"

"…Yes."

Baraggan just stood there, completely at a loss for words. Before he could react, Aaroniero snatched the fancy coat off the hook, dashing out of Baraggan's reach.

"**MINE!**"

* * *

"Hrrrggg…Come ON!!! Just a little more!!!"

_**RRRRRIPPPPP!!!!!!**_

"D'oh, CRAP!!!"

Yammy tossed aside yet another jacket that was 10 sizes too small.

"You know, if you keep tearing those clothes, there won't be anything left," Grimmjow pointed out.

"Whatever," grunted Yammy, "These things just make me so MAD!!!"

"Then ask Gin to make you a bigger one," Zommari stated simply.

Grimmjow stared at the black man's uniform. It was a long mandarin-style jacket that ended at his ankles. It had a long sash that started at his chest and covered his mouth.

"What the hell are _you _supposed to be?!" Grimmjow asked incredulously, "Some sorta monk??"

Zommari nodded. "I respect their meditative ways and I try my best to follow their example. I respect them for their reverence and passion. Therefore, I thought that by donning a uniform that resembles theirs, it would inspire me to act as they do."

"Well then, ditch the fuckin' scarf," Grimmjow said, paying no attention to what Zommari just said.

"Why?"

"It makes you look like a freakin' pansy."

"Grimmjow, I hardly think that-"

"Dude, get rid of it. No self-respecting man walks into battle with some shitty scarf around his neck!"

"Fine, I'll get rid of the scarf…"

* * *

"Errrr…"

"What, ya don't like it??"

Starrk awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Well, to be honest, no."

In Gin's hands were two articles of clothing. In one hand was a simple white vest. But that wasn't what caught Starrk's disapproval.

In the other hand was a Speedo.

"Huh. I don't see what's so wrong 'bout it," Gin said, cocking his head, "After all, ya did say that ya wanted somethin' simple, right? So, this is 'bout as simple as it gets."

Starrk pinched his brow. "Forget it. I'll figure something out."

"Suit yerself," Gin replied. He reached over to put the items back.

"Wait, Gin, wait!"

Gin looked up and saw Lilynette rushing towards him. She skidded to a halt, and snatched the clothes out of Gin's hands before he could say anything.

"If you don't want it, I'll be more than happy to take it!" Lilynette grinned, already rushing off to change.

Gin's face was set in a strangely deadpan expression.

"Eh, Starrk, are ya sure it's a good idea to let someone of her age to wear somethin' that…skimpy? Starrk? Starrk??"

But Starrk had already sauntered beyond the range of hearing, obviously not caring.

* * *

"No, no, no, Ulquiorra!! That outfit just isn't you!!"

Szayel continued to chide Ulquiorra was his arms akimbo. Ulquiorra didn't seem to care; his eyes retained his usual stoic expression.

"Do you have a problem with my uniform, Szayel-Aporro?" asked Ulquiorra calmly.

Szayel shrugged. "Well, I just don't think it suits you," he sighed.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, first of all, you're a more slender figure; therefore you should wear something that better suits your body structure!"

With that, Szayel reached over and, grabbing Ulquiorra's shoulders, ripped Ulquiorra's jacket right off. Tossing it aside, he began rummaging through a nearby closet.

"And just what do you plan to do?" Ulquiorra crossed his arms brazenly across his bare chest.

"A-HA!" Szayel exclaimed triumphantly. He turned around to face Ulquiorra, holding a jacket in his hands.

The jacket was noticeably refined; it even had coattails and a collar. Ulquiorra grabbed the coat and threw it on, zipping up the collar to hide his hollow hole.

"Well, what do you think?" Szayel asked excitedly.

"…"

"Well?"

"I've seen worse," Ulquiorra admitted, turning away from Szayel.

"Well, what do you think guys?"

The voice was calm and feminine. Szayel turned around to find Halibel walking towards them.

She wore a simple white jacket that covered her entire upper torso, with an oversized collar that obscured her lower face. The sleeves ended at her extremities with black tips that covered her fingers. Szayel felt a pang of disappointment.

Well, it's pretty decent…," Szayel said, "but it's missing something."

"Really…," Halibel mumbled, "What's missing?"

Szayel grinned devilishly. "SEX APPEAL!!!!"

In one fluid motion, he drew his sword from his sheath and made a V-cut across Halibel's upper chest. The fabric fell away, revealing her lower jaw and neck.

"What in the name…?!" Szayel muttered in disbelief.

_**SMACK!!!**_

"Are you quite satisfied?" Halibel hissed through her hollow mask, rubbing the side of her hand. Getting no response, she turned on the fallen scientist and walked back into the depths of the closet. Baraggan and Ulquiorra stared at her as she left, not daring to say a word.

Her brow furrowed.

_Sex appeal…?_

* * *

**About half an hour later…**

"Oi! Ev'rybody gather up!!"

Gin called all the arrancar to attention. Most gathered around him.

"I see y'all have chosen your uniforms!"

Grimmjow tugged at the collar of his white jacket. "Yeah! I look pretty good, huh! Like a million bucks!!"

"Hmph. More like 10 cents," Yammy muttered under his breath.

Grimmjow threw him a smug look. "You're just jealous 'cause you're too fat to fit into anything!"

Yammy didn't respond. He just glanced down at his own jacket. IT had been stretched to the limit; it barely covered his shoulders. He heaved an inward sigh.

Gin glanced around. "Hey, has anyone seen Starrk, Halibel, or Aaroniero?"

"Here I am," Starrk yawned, walking out from behind a curtain. He wore a peculiar robe that ended just above his ankle on one side.

"I thought ya wanted somethin' simple?" Gin pointed out. Starrk didn't respond.

A second figure emerged from behind the curtain. "You called?" she asked.

Gin's eyes started downwards and froze. "Eh, what's with the uh…uh…er…," he stammered.

Halibel raised an eyebrow. "You mean my _jacket_?" she asked. "I thought I'd go for some sex appeal."

Szayel gave a sly thumbs up.

Gin stared at the soft forms of flesh that tantalizingly dangled from the opening in the jacket. He decided not to say anything more.

"Hey, what's with the collar?" Grimmjow asked, pointing at the two peculiar gold circles that adorned the large collar of Halibel's jacket.

"Well, I need to _breathe_," Halibel replied, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"Well no _shit._ Maybe you shouldn't have worn such a damn large collar!"

Suddenly, Halibel hastily crossed her arms under her chest, hugging her arms close.

Grimmjow scratched the back of his head. "Uh, did I say something wrong?"

Gin cocked his head. "Eh, Halibel, is there somethin' wrong?"

"…Let's just say that I need some tape…now," Halibel replied vaguely, not budging.

"Okaaaay…," Gin sighed, not knowing why. He began to turn around.

"_**AARONIERO ARRURUERIE, PRESENT**_," two voices announced in unison.

"_YAAHHH!!!!_" Gin leapt about a yard backwards, his arms flailing wildly. "Would ya _cut that out?!!_" he hissed, panting heavily.

"_Sorry. _**FORCE OF HABIT.**"

Gin stared at Aaroniero's head; it was still covered by a dark blue kendo helmet. It clashed with his immaculately white jacket.

"Oi, Aaroniero, what's with the helmet?" Gin inquired. "It really doesn't go with yer uniform. Why don't ya take it off?"

Aaroniero took a step back. "_I'm…not too comfortable without my mask._"

"Aw c'mon, we wanna see your face!" Grimmjow insisted, appearing behind Aaroniero. He gave Aaroniero's head a playful smack. However, it may have been more powerful that Grimmjow thought.

_**WHACK!!!!**_

Aaroniero's head – mask and all – flew right off his body. It hit the ground with a CLUNK! The rest of Aaroniero's body just stood there with its arms hanging limp.

Everyone stood stock still in horror. Starrk's eye twitched involuntarily. Lilynette fainted. Grimmjow eyes were wide in shock, and his teeth were bared in a dumbfounded grimace.

Gin fidgeted skittishly. _Aizen's gonna kill me!!!_

Suddenly, the head began to twitch. They all flinched. It rocked back and forth. No one knew what to expect.

Finally, a voice broke the silence.

"_Nice going, Grimmjow. _**NOW LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE.**"

The voices came from the bundle on the floor.

"IT'S ALIVE!!!!!" Szayel shrieked. He had just jumped five feet in the air.

"W-w-w-w-w-whaaaa??!!!" Yammy spluttered.

The body began to wander around aimlessly like a zombie; its arms were held out straight.

"**HEY! YOU STUPID THING, I'M OVER HERE!! **_Move to the left!! Not your left, MY left!! No, wrong way, WRONG WAY!!! _**YOU'RE GOING FREAKIN' BACKWARDS!!! ****OH, FOR PITY'S SAKE…**"

It looked like a scene right out of a cheap cartoon. The head yelled commands as the body wandered around in an oblivious manner. Aaroniero had obviously overlooked the fact that bodies don't have ears.

"_Hey, Ichimaru, a little HELP please?!_"

Gin was pretty reluctant to pick up a talking disembodied head. He starts to shuffle backwards but was prodded in the back by Zommari . He sighed and took a couple hesitant steps forward. He picked up the helmet, and – very, _very _slowly – reached inside.

His hand met something smooth and cool. Now curious, he lifted the object out.

It was a cylindrical fishbowl. But there was something different about it.

"_SWEET MOTHER ALMIGHTY!!! WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS GOOD HAPPENED TO YOU????!!!"_

Two heads the size of baseballs floated inside. They both stared as Gin screamed.

The color drained out of all the arrancar's faces. Ulquiorra's eyes went wide.

"The freak show jus' NEVER stops with ya, DOES it?!" Gin panted.

"**AS YOU CAN SEE, IF I WERE TO WALK AROUND WITH MY HEAD OUT IN THE OPEN, I WOULD CAUSE QUITE A LOT OF HEART ATTACKS.**"

"But how did ya keep yer head on yer body if it's in a fishbowl?"

"_Duct tape._"

Scraggly brown slivers could be seen protruding from the body where the neck was supposed to be.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me."

"**UNFORTUNATELY, I'M DEAD SERIOUS. **_Now how am I supposed to keep my head on my shoulders?!_"

Gin pondered this for a minute. He snapped his fingers – he looked like he had an idea. He hefted Aaroniero's body into a nearby room, and returned to retrieve his head. He shut the door.

. . . . . . . .

There was a silence. Then, muffled voices could be faintly heard. The arrancar listened intently.

"…Okay, now I jus' need ya to hold still…"

"**WHY? WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU THINKIN- **_H-hey, what's with the hot glue gun?! Ichimaru??!!_"

"…Don't move…"

"_W-wait!! N-no, don't you DARE!!!! NOOOOOO!!!!!!_"

"Would ya stop screamin'?! It shouldn't even hurt!! You're a freakin' disembodied head – er, heads?!!"

The other arrancar stood awkwardly.

"I…think we should go…," said Halibel rather uncomfortably.

Nodding in agreement, the others slowly ambled out of the room. They were met at the entrance by Tousen.

"Well, hello there. I hope you're ready for- hey, where's Ichimaru??" Tousen asked, looking around.

No one responded.


	5. Things Get Serious

**Sorry for the really crappy update…  
****IMPORTANT MESSAGE AT THE BOTTOM!**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Nine arrancar were gathered around a long rectangular table. At the head sat their undisputed leader, Sosuke Aizen, and his faithful associate Kaname Tousen. The room was primly furnished; an air of elegance was drawn from the precisely cut tables, ornate chairs, and the impeccable black-tiled floor that flaunted crystal-clear reflections. The colors of sleek black and ivory white blended perfectly in the greatest

…Unfortunately, the elegance was ruined by half the room's occupants stuffing their faces.

"Hey, this fish isn't half bad!" Grimmjow said through a mouthful of grilled salmon.

"You're tellin' me!" Yammy grinned back. He shoved another mouthful of roast ham into his mouth, chewing noisily and sloppily.

"For pity's sake, Riyalgo…," sighed Szayel, "chew with your mouth closed…"

"Shove off, Pinky," came the curt reply.

Szayel sighed and took another dainty bite of filet mignon.

"Hey, Lilinette! Gimme back my steak!" Starrk protested, reaching towards his alternate-self.

Lilinette smirked, holding the plate just out of the rugged arrancar's reach. "You were just sitting there, staring at it! You were practically half asleep!"

"That doesn't mean I wasn't going to eat it! Now give it back!"

Lilinette hmph-ed and returned Starrk's steak. Starrk stared at it and haphazardly pushed it aside. He then laid his head down on the table, much to the green-haired girl's chagrin.

"If you're not gonna eat that--"

"Eat your own darn food, Yammy," Lilinette mumbled.

Yammy snorted and grabbed another hunk of meat off one of the many platters set in the middle of the table.

"If you don't mind me asking, Aizen-sama, wasn't there something you wanted to tell us?" asked Zommari.

"Actually, yes, there was, Zommari," Aizen replied. "Unfortunately, we're missing not only one of our guests, but also our helpful friend Gin."

At the mention of Gin, all the arrancar stiffened. Tousen, feeling this increasing tension, couldn't imagine why.

Desperately looking for something to change the subject, Szayel turned towards Halibel. "You haven't touched your food," he said nonchalantly.

Halibel didn't respond. With her head propped up by one fist, she took her fork and lazily shifted her food around.

Szayel frowned. "Wait a second, _can _you touch your food? Isn't your mouth covered by--_**OW??!!!**_"

A furtive but firm stomp on Szayel's foot put an end to his question. Removing her foot, Halibel smirked satisfactorily underneath her collar.

Before anyone else could ask what just happened, a pair of double doors slammed open. In walked two silent figures. One placed himself between Yammy and Baraggan, and quietly began piling up his plate; the other took a seat next to Tousen.

"Welcome back, Gin, Aaroniero," Aizen smiled. "What have you two been up to?"

Gin grinned back. "Oh, y'know, jus' tyin' up some loose ends."

"Well then, now that you're here, maybe you'd like to explain our little test."

"Gladly!" Gin pulled a small pointer from the depths of his robes.

Tousen pulled a small lever that appeared in the side of the wall. With a metallic hiss, a large flat screen miraculously appeared on one of the whitewashed walls.

Gin extended his metal pointer. "Now, let's begin, shall we?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After explaining (for HOURS) the political and historical aspects of the Espada, the arrancar were growing restless.

"And, as a bonus to added tax dollars, you also--"

"QUIT FUCKING WITH US, ICHIMARU!" Grimmjow interjected. "CUT TO THE CHASE ALREADY!"

Gin's eyebrows slanted upwards in a confused look. "Chase?"

Grimmjow had an incredulous look on his face. "Yeah, you know, the contest and everything!"

"Contest?"

"What the--"

"Oh yeah, I remember now," Gin said quickly, his smile resurfacing. "Tousen, screen change, please!"

The picture on the television screen changed to that of a chart, which was divided into two columns. One column, labeled 'Positions', showed ten small squares. In each square, there was one small chibi picture of an arrancar's head (save for Starrk's box, which included Lilinette as well). The second, wider column was labeled 'SP', and next to each arrancar's respective box, there was a number.

Gin explained, "Y'see, the rank ya get depends on how well ya do in this test. Dependin' on how well ya perform each trial, ya either gain or lose 'Skill Points', or 'SP' for short."

Ulquiorra sighed. "Ichimaru, you've been beating around the bush for hours, but you've never told us what the actual tests are!"

Gin shrugged. "Well, Ulquiorra, if ya knew what the test was, it wouldn't be a surprise! All that matters is this: whoever gets the most SP by the end of the contest will get the top spot – the greatest of ALL the Espada!"

This piqued almost all the arrancar's interests. Eyebrows rose, moustaches were stroked, and chins were rubbed thoughtfully.

Halibel frowned. "Wait. My SP's at 0. Does that mean you're telling me I have no skill?"

"'Course not, Halibel! That jus' means ya haven't done anything to prove your skill! Take Ulquiorra for example. His SP's higher than the others cuz he figured a way out!"

This was true. Ulquiorra's fittingly drab cartoon head was seated at the top; his SP read "650". Underneath was Starrk's, at "250"; third was Szayel, at "50". All the others trailed behind at "0" – except for Aaroniero at "-150" and the unlucky Nnoitra, who was in last place at "-200".

"Y'all will be shown your SP's at various times throughout the test, so don't go askin' unless we say ya can. Are there any questions?"

"**YES, INDEED,**" Aaroniero's voice boomed. "_What did I do?! I have -150!_"

"Ya shouldn't have kept me waitin', Arranuro."

"**IT'S AARONIERO—**"

"Shut up."

"Hey, Ichimaru, I have a question!" said Szayel, somewhat indignantly. "Why's Starrk higher than me?"

Gin chuckled. "Well, we had to give ya credit for actually thinkin' of an idea, even if it failed, but we all got a kick outta Starrk beatin' down ol' Nnoitra!"

Starrk's half-lidded eyes rotated up towards Gin. "What, you saw that?"

The grinning man nodded. "Don't go thinkin' we don't know what yer up to; we can keep tabs on ya at all times! Actually, 'at reminds me – you'll all be sent up to yer rooms for a little R & R before the tests! Call it our little treat."

With that said, the TV began to sink into the wall. Gin placed his pointer in the folds of his robes and walked out of the room with Aizen and Tousen.

"Wait, Ichimaru!"

"What is it, Baraggan?" asked Gin with his back to the old man.

"If you're going to govern us so, you should at least tell us something about yourselves!"

Gin's head swiveled to face Baraggan's. He grinned with a cold glint in his eye.

"The less ya know 'bout us, Luisenbarn, the better."

The doors creaked shut.

* * *

It was approximately 1:39 in the morning. Halibel's shoes clacked crisply as she marched down the halls of Las Noches with a determined glare in her eyes. Never once did she break her stride; she was an arrancar on a mission. She had to assure herself the top spot, and she knew exactly how to do so.

She knew that she wasn't the only one aiming for the top spot; nine other arrancar would just as easily stab her in the back for the coveted position of the strongest Espada. Therefore, she needed support – someone who she knew would be trustworthy enough not to betray her, but devious enough to bring everyone else down; she couldn't do it all on her own. However, the person she chose had to have completely different intentions; otherwise they would both try to get rid of one another when the time came. The choice was clear.

Halibel needed an alliance. And she knew exactly where to start.

* * *

*KNOCK KNOCK*

A knock at the door – two, to be exact – reverberated throughout the room. Just two lonely knocks disturbed the tranquil peace of the otherwise silent room. The man didn't budge a single inch; he hated interruptions to his alone time. Maybe, if he concentrated hard enough, it would go away.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Apparently not. Although he didn't like to break his meditation, it seemed that his visitor simply wouldn't go away. As he rose slowly from his sitting position, he began to wonder who in the right mind would knock at such an ungodly hour. He walked towards the door and opened it, not exactly savoring the moment. He was surprised to find who exactly the visitor was.

"Hello, Zommari," the figure said. "I need your help."

* * *

"Yaaaawwwn…Nothin' like a little midnight snack to calm yer nerves…"

Gin yawned again as he strolled down the long corridor leading to the kitchen, dressed only in sky blue lounge pants, a plain white t-shirt, and raggedy flip-flops. With all the stress he had throughout the day – registration, enough said – he was overjoyed to finally have some time to himself. When he reached the kitchen, he darted to the refrigerator and opened a small drawer simply labeled 'Gin'. He rummaged inside until he finally found it.

A small bag of dried persimmons. He eagerly opened the bag and began to chow down. He was completely at ease; nothing could ruin his contentment at that very moment.

"**HELLO, ICHIMARU.**"

"_Ayiee!_" Gin yelped. "Great googly-moogly, Aaroniero, would ya cut that out?!"

"'_Great googly-moogly'? _**YOU'RE RUNNING OUT OF EXCLAMATIONS, AREN'T YOU.**"

Gin popped another persimmon into his mouth. "Maybe. Hey, shouldn't ya be…y'know…_asleep_?"

"**I DO NOT REQUIRE SLEEP. **_The hours of the night are when I prowl searching for--_"

"Go away."

"_Gladly._"

With that, the enigmatic figure left the room, and Gin was grateful for that. He continued eating before he noticed a tall shadow looming over him. He turned around.

"Well, Yammy, good to see ya..." He paused, cutting himself off. He squinted at the figure.

"Waaiiiit a sec…yer not Yammy!"

* * *

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Uggh…mmmph…go away…" He fully intended to just let that person knock until he or she went away.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He turned over in his bed, burying his face in the pillow. It was two o'clock in the morning. That meant SLEEP. Not unwelcome visitors, SLEEP.

RAP!! RAP!! RAP!!

The knocks were now curtly loud. He brought the blanket over his head in a vain attempt to muffle all the noise. If that person had any sense at all, he or she should know to let sleeping dogs lie.

"Starrk, if you don't open the door, I'll come in anyway," said a muffled voice.

Starrk groaned. If knocking before dawn wasn't bad enough, now that person – he now knew it was a woman – was threatening to invade his personal space. He dragged himself off the bed, then off the floor, and lurched softly across the floor, careful not to wake his sleeping companion. After what seemed like an agonizingly long lifetime, he had finally reached the door.

_**THWACK!!**_

"Gaaah!" Starrk clutched his face as he rolled about helplessly on the ground.

Halibel poked her head inside the now-open door with a puzzled expression. Since Starrk hadn't obliged to opening the door, she decided to open it herself. However, the door had met something dull, but she didn't know quite what it was. She now knew.

"Get up, Starrk…," she sighed.

Starrk picked himself off the ground. "You could've warned me before you go opening doors like that!"

"I did warn you. I said distinctly that I would come in, didn't I?"

"Why are you here, Halibel?"

Halibel plopped herself down on a nearby beanbag chair. "I'll be completely honest – I came here because I need your help."

"My help? For what?"

"What do you think? For this test, of course. If you and I form an alliance, we can get to the top positions."

"Why would I want to team up with _you_? More importantly, why do _you_ want to team up with _me_?"

"Just trust me, Starrk. I can see that you can be a pretty reliable guy – someone who can provide great support and strength." What Halibel said was only partly true. Yes, Starrk was powerful, but what really interested her was his apathetic, lackadaisical attitude. If everything went as planned, he would agree to form an alliance, and they would reach to top two spots. Then, when they had to duke it out for first place, he would hardly even care about first place, thereby freeing up room for another candidate – her.

Starrk furrowed his brow. "Well, if you and I actually make it to the top ranks, eventually, we'll have to fight for first place. What then?"

Halibel pinched her brow; she didn't expect Starrk to think of that. Apparently, she had underestimated him. However, this proved to her that Starrk was an even more valuable asset; not only did he have strength, but he had the brawn to back it up as well.

"Forget it," she sighed in a defeated tone, rising from her seat. "If you don't want to help me, that's ok."

Starrk smirked. "Now just hold on there; I never said I actually cared. I'll agree to your little alliance, and I'll help you to the top spot. If I get somewhere high, people will just leave me alone, and I can catch up on some sleep." He stuck out his hand. "What do you say? Alliance?"

Halibel took his hand and shook it gratefully. "Alliance."

Under her collar, the corners of her mouth turned upwards. Everything was going according to her plan.

* * *

"Come on, everyone, anti up."

Grimmjow, Yammy, Baraggan, and Aaroniero all sat around a small coffee table playing poker. With nothing else to do, they all thought, "Hey, why not?"

However, they all were somewhat reluctant to let Aaroniero join the game.

_XXXXXXX FLASHBACK XXXXXXX_

Everyone stood in silence as they watched the doors close. The silence was a mix of confusion, wonder, and sheer fear. They all agreed that Gin was indeed creepy, but that last comment just took the cake.

Grimmjow glanced at Aaroniero. "Sooo, Aaroniero, it looks like your head's back on." He noticed Aaroniero's eight-holed white mask. He added, "Nice mask by the way." _It hides your freakish face,_ he thought. He was going to say that, but thought better against it.

Aaroniero didn't respond. He just continued to pile his plate with food of all sorts.

Lilinette gaped at the increasing mound of food. "Hey, Aaroniero, are you gonna eat all that?"

Aaroniero hefted the dish and began to leave the room with it.

"Hey!" objected Yammy. "If you're not gonna eat that, either give it to me, or bring it over here!"

Aaroniero brought the food back over and sat back down. "_Do you _really _want to see me eat?_"

Szayel placed a finger on his chin thoughtfully. Now that he thought about it, if Aaroniero's heads were floating in a fishbowl, how did he eat? "Yes, Aaroniero, very much so," he replied curiously.

Aaroniero shrugged. "**DON'T SAY WE DIDN'T WARN YOU.**" That being said, he slowly removed the white glove covering his left hand.

The arrancar's faces turned from curiosity to disgusted horror as their eyes fell upon the writhing purple tentacles that he revealed. Their eyes grew even wider as the sucker in the middle opened, revealing a small hungry tongue. Aaroniero jabbed his hellish appendage towards the food, and it began to eat. The outer tentacles pushed the food towards the pulsing mouth, which eagerly accepted the offering. It expanded and contracted as it swallowed whole each individual bite. Green liquid that could be vaguely described as saliva seeped from its mouth in copious amounts, dissolving all that it touched. It took its sweet time, allowing the room's other occupants to watch each agonizing second. For many, it would emotionally scar them for the rest of their lives.

_XXXXXXX END FLASHBACK XXXXXXX_

Grimmjow shuddered at the thought. Averting his thoughts, he focused on the game. "Gimme 2," he said, throwing two cards towards the deck. Yammy dealt him two cards back. He put on his best poker face.

"_Hey, is it a good thing when all our cards have those little diamonds?_** SHUT UP. **_What about that card with the big diamond and the 'A' on it? _**SHUT UP!**"

"I fold," Grimmjow, Yammy, and Baraggan said in unison, throwing their cards at the deck.

"**NICE GOING. **_I was just _asking_!_" Aaroniero resignedly threw his cards at the pile as well. He looked up. "_Is there something wrong, guys?_"

The reason he asked this was because the other three's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as they stared at the doorway behind Aaroniero. He paused; he could feel a presence looming behind him.

He turned around and froze. If he had a face, its mouth would have hit the floor.

"_Oh. My. _**GOD.**"

* * *

**Personally, I like Aaroniero; he's creepy, schizophrenic, and off-putting – the bane of fans everywhere. That's the role he plays in my story, especially in this chapter.**

**IMPORTANT MESSAGE(S):**

**1. REVIEW PLEASE!!! I'm not saying I won't update until you do (that's just stupid), but they would be very much appreciated!**

**2. Writer's block sucks. We all know that. So, I have a special request for all my readers. You've all heard about 'the test', but I have yet to decide on what it actually IS. I have a few ideas, but I need MORE. So, if YOU have an idea for a certain test, PM it to me (or put it in a review, whatever works), and I just may use it. NOTE: NO truth or dare, sexually humiliating, OOC etc. ideas – just ideas like "Spanish lessons", "Swordplay with Ichimaru" or something (kinda lame, I know, but that's why I rely on you people). I'll choose how everyone does, and I have a special final exam that will come towards the end of the story. Have a nice day. **


	6. Calm Before the Storm

**Sorry this took so long. You focus on school, and you don't update in three months.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Ah, contests. No matter where he looked, life was full of them – and the afterlife was no exception. And, evidently, he'd entangled himself in yet another one of Aizen's schemes, and it was no different than the last one. It was little more than another group of cruel, backstabbing arrancar clawing their way to the top and dragging each other down. But that wasn't him. No, he was much more refined than to stoop to such a low.

His confidence hadn't faltered since he arrived at Las Noches. He had the one thing no one else had – experience. Well, except for the one with two heads, not to mention the jackal. Okay, maybe he'd underestimated the competition. But not by much.

The man's face split into a self-satisfactory smile. The way his lenses momentarily caught the pure white light of his surroundings made it seem as if they were smiling along with him. No point in holding back now. There was work to be done.

* * *

"Now where are we going?" the lethargic man sighed as his companion dragged him down an alabaster hallway. His uniform emitted a steady hiss as he sat on the ground while his arm was tugged into motion.

Halibel rolled her eyes. "I can't tell you. It's a surprise."

"That's a pretty lame excuse for stealing a good night's sleep from me. When I agreed to your little plan, I didn't agree to this." Starrk yawned. "Geez, can't plotting wait?"

"Show a little work ethic, Starrk."

"Not likely. Could you at least tell me _why_ you dragged me out of bed so early?"

Halibel stopped and eyed him over her shoulder. "You're a smart guy; you figure it out."

Starrk picked himself off the ground. "Well, we're not too far from my room, so that means there are other bedrooms around here. Are you looking for someone?"

Halibel hesitated before responding, "Do you remember Zommari?"

The two began to walk. "Zommari? Why him?" asked Starrk. "You got me, don't you?"

"He's…interesting," Halibel replied. Why she sought him, even she didn't know. She trusted that strident, nagging voice that told her a haphazard fellow like Starrk wouldn't cut it. On that same note, no one else seemed trustworthy. Yammy, Baraggan, and Grimmjow were too loud; Aaroniero, too abstruse; Szayel, too shrewd; Nnoitra, too acrimonious; and Ulquiorra was, well, Ulquiorra. Zommari seemed like an ideal choice, being the calm, unassuming man that he was.

A faint greenish-yellow tint slithering out an open door caught Starrk's eye. "Kinda looks like someone's beaten us to the catch."

Halibel's pace picked up noticeably. Starrk ambled after her.

The pair entered the room, surprised to find that Zommari was, in fact, still there. However, he had a visitor; the two were seated on opposite sides of a coffee table, on which was a crystalline chessboard, complete with black and white figures.

The visitor barely looked up from his pieces. "Starrk. Halibel."

Halibel lowered her eyes. "Hello, Ulquiorra."

* * *

The poker group gaped at the slightly bowlegged man that stood in the doorway.

Yammy blinked repeatedly. "I thought you were dead!"

"He might as well have been!" Grimmjow guffawed, coaxing a glare from the man in the doorway.

"Some welcome that is," the figure said sarcastically.

"_Well, hey! Look who it is! _**LONG TIME, NO SEE, NNOITRA,**" Aaroniero greeted. "_When did you get here?_"

The figure was indeed Nnoitra, in all his towering glory. "Tch! I don't need your welcome!" he spat.

"_But you just said—_"

"And I don't need your damn reasoning, either!"

Baraggan slapped his cards down on the table. "Feh, I'm leaving you peasant meatbags." With that, he rose from his seat and brushed past Nnoitra.

"_Sheesh, what's _his_ problem? _**MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR VOICE, NNOITRA?**"

Nnoitra stared at Aaroniero. "Whaddya mean, 'What's wrong with' —ack! What the hell?" What was once a raucous, nasal voice was now raspy and hoarse, with a nasal undertone. It almost sounded like an aged door creaking open ever so slowly. Nnoitra could care less, because he had some unfinished business. However, what really irked him was the lack of appeal in his voice; he sounded more like an aged drug addict than a ladies' man.

He was so preoccupied with this quandary that he failed to notice a certain fox-faced man standing behind him. "Well, well, it's sleepin' time, but no one's sleepin'! Go figure!"

"Just tell us what you want and get out, Ichimaru," scowled Grimmjow.

Gin pointed at Nnoitra. "You don't have a uniform! Come along, now!"

"I don't need a new uniform," Nnoitra replied. "I still have my old—"

"Oh, no no no, Nnoitra, that ain't kosher," Gin said quickly. He wrapped his hand around Nnoitra's skinny wrist and speed-walked out of the room, dragging the jackal with him.

"_Man, Nnoitra sure has changed,_" Aaroniero mused. "**NOT TO MENTION HE DIDN'T SHOW UP AT DINNER. **_Did something –_"

But Grimmjow stopped him short. "Yeah. He took a hard kick in the balls and couldn't do jack-shit about it."

"You shoulda been there," Yammy chortled.

"Yeah, well, the dude's back on his feet," Grimmjow sighed. He didn't know if he felt proud or appalled. In fact, he didn't know if he felt anything at all. It just felt weird reacting to the recovery of someone who was nearly castrated before his own eyes. It was like finding a hair in his mouth and realizing it wasn't his. He finally suggested, "Gin Rummy, anyone?"

Yammy nodded. "_I'm game,_" Aaroniero said before his other persona cut in: "**OH NO, YOU DON'T. IF ANYONE'S PLAYING, IT'S ME.** _You're so mean, Aaro._"

* * *

Starrk looked back and forth from Ulquiorra to Halibel, casually comparing Ulquiorra's unreadable expression (in spite of his large eyes) to Halibel's pointed gaze.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was interrupting," Halibel said calmly.

Ulquiorra shook his head. "No, no, it's fine. Whatever it is, it sure seemed important to you two."

_Hmph, important to _her, Starrk grumbled in his head. He started to walk out of the room, but didn't get very far before his partner clamped an iron grip on his shoulder.

"Anyways, I really should get going," said Halibel.

"Well, you came here for a reason. Why else would you be here? Just to say hi? Not likely." Ulquiorra's tone held a precious sliver of cynicism.

"Yeah," Starrk muttered, anxious to leave. "We came to say hi. Can we go now, Halibel?"

"No." This came from Ulquiorra. "Halibel, I know why you're here."

"And why is that?" Halibel challenged him.

Ulquiorra's fingers carried a black bishop to the center of the chess board and knocked aside a white rook. His fingers danced between the bishop and rook as the black piece took the place of the black one. Without making a sound, he swept up the rook and pointed it at Zommari. "Alliance," he said simply. "It's on everyone's mind."

Halibel instantly thought of Baraggan and Grimmjow. "I seriously doubt that."

Just then, Zommari decided to put in his words. "Alliance? Just what are you implying? Aizen-sama never said alliances were legal."

"He never said they weren't," Ulquiorra quipped. "And what's to say everyone else isn't doing likewise?"

Halibel felt a retort rising in her throat, but suppressed it. He had a point. It seemed like everyone – save for Starrk – was out for blood. Making enemies wouldn't get her very far. But still, anyone would have been better than Ulquiorra. He kept his cool and thought things out – much like her. And if A led to B, then chances were he was planning to get to the top in the same way she was. Not good. But the last thing she wanted to do was turn tail and leave. She would've held her ground for nothing, and she hated when she did that. Plus, she would've lost an ally to him. No, she wouldn't lose to someone like him.

"Maybe we can…strike a deal." The second she said that, chills ran up her spine; it was as if she just sold her soul. Those last three words seemed to be the loudest out of all the ones she said. They rebounded off the walls: _strike a deal…strike a deal…strike a deal…_

For the first time, Ulquiorra's pupils moved from the chessboard to the woman who addressed him. "Perhaps we can."

Starrk resignedly slumped down to the floor with his back against the wall. "Wake me up when you two are done." He frowned and then shook his head. "On second thought, don't."

Zommari piped up, "If you don't mind me asking, what's the point of allying ourselves if we're just going to turn on one another in the end?"

"The point isn't bringing ourselves up," Ulquiorra answered. "It's bringing everyone else down. They won't pose much of a threat against us if we act as a…team." He paused slightly before he said the last word.

"And who's 'They'?"

This time Halibel responded. "Anyone who's a nuisance." She sighed. "Look, it's really simple. Just follow my lead, and everything will be fine."

Ulquiorra looked at her. "_Your _lead?"

Halibel returned his stare. "Yes, _my _lead."

"And why is that?"

Halibel searched her mind for the sole response toward countless interviews. "I have exceptional leadership skills."

"Prove it."

"I haven't been given a chance," Halibel replied evenly. "Trust me, it'll all be worthwhile."

Ulquiorra nodded. "Well you can lead Starrk and Zommari. I work alone. _Ipso facto_."

Halibel arched an eyebrow. "Then it's not much of an alliance, is it?"

"Think of it as a nonaggression pact. You can take Zommari–"

"Don't talk as if I'm not in the same room," Zommari grumbled.

"–and I will lend you my assistance every now and again."

Halibel didn't respond. _This is suspicious,_ she thought. _He practically gave me an ally without asking for anything in return. _

"You think I'm up to something." What should've come as a question from Ulquiorra was nothing less than a statement – a true one at that, much to Halibel's chagrin. "But if it makes you happy, I'll ask for something in return."

"And what makes you so special?" Halibel inquired.

"Did you forget? I have the lead," Ulquiorra replied.

"And…?"

"I'm sure that comes with some sort of benefit."

"You're all assuming that we're going to be pit against each other in some fight to the death," Zommari pointed out. "You talk as if we're fighting a war here. This is no fight to the death."

Halibel replied, "With Gin as our supervisor, I'm sure it'll only be a matter of time. Besides, it never hurts to take precautions."

"Well that ain't very nice," a sly voice said from the doorway. Sure enough, it was none other than the fox-man himself. "Just 'cuz I follow orders, y'all think I'm some sorta twisted serial killer!"

"Never trust a smiling man," Ulquiorra said, "especially those who carry extendable blades. What business do you have here?"

Gin stopped smiling and put on an innocent, bemused face. "Oh, little ol' me? Not much. Just wanted to tell ya that y'all should rest up for tomorrow!" His face broke into his usual – sly – grin. "This alliance'll be our little secret, 'kay?"

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough, Ulquie. Long enough."

"So it's just us here?" Ulquiorra asked.

Gin tilted his head. "Well, not exac—"

"Long time, no see!" a voice cackled, and it was much too stridently caustic to be that of anyone in the room, Gin included. A man ducked to enter the doorway, and the first thing everyone noticed was how bulbous his head (?) was.

Halibel looked the figure up and down before finally declaring: "Whatever shred of respect I used to have for you no longer exists, Jiruga."

Nnoitra's attire now consisted of his infamous spoon-hooded jacket and Wicked Witch boots. He angrily grabbed fistfuls of Gin's shirt. "You see? Dammit, Gin, you bastard, where's my other uniform?"

"I told ya already, it's gone," Gin replied, _sans_ smile. "Y'see, Yammy kinda…tore apart each and every uniform we had."

"Except this one?" Nnoitra's voice was dripping with incredulous contempt.

"That one's special; I don't keep it with the others! 'At's the very first jacket I ever made!" Gin looked at the hood that exploded out of the collar. "Yeah…I wasn't so good back then…"

"And the boots…?" Nnoitra demanded.

Gin ventured a guess. "Oh, I dunno…Halloween?"

"Why did you bring him here?" Ulquiorra asked Gin.

Gin's grin returned. "Well, y'all looked kinda lonely, and Nnoitra here's recoverin', so I thought it'd be nice for a little reunion!"

"With all due respect, Ichimaru, I don't see that happening," Zommari said. "He was out for two chapters, and now he shows up?"

"I don't know what the hell you mean by 'chapters,'" Nnoitra growled, "but that bastard's gonna get it."

"You mean that 'bastard'?" Ulquiorra pointed to Starrk, who was sleeping in a crouching position next to the doorjamb, right next to Nnoitra's leg.

Nnoitra looked down at Starrk. His face twisted from astonishment, to a snarl of contempt. He drove his foot into Starrk's midriff, catching him between his arm and leg. Rather than react, however, Starrk merely fell over; his mouth oscillated at a steady pace. A vein throbbed in Nnoitra's neck as he grabbed Starrk's collar and hoisted the sleeping man off the floor.

"Wake up, lazy-ass," Nnoitra growled, his face inches from Starrk's. When Starrk was, once again, unresponsive, his assailant punched him in the face; the fist dug into the rough iron flesh of his cheek and slid his jaw brutally sideways. But in spite of this, he still continued to sleep. Nnoitra's bloodshot eye literally throbbed with rage, and the corners of his mouth were turned down as far as possible, possibly further. He palmed the back of Starrk's head and slammed his face into the clean white wall. He then proceeded to apply pressure to Starrk's face as he pushed it down the wall, resulting in a slow, scratch-hiss-hybrid noise, then a solid thud as the sleeping prey's face met the jet black tile floor. Nnoitra slammed his heel on the back of Starrk's face and left it there, as if he were in the midst of ascending a flight of stairs.

Finally, a muffled groan could be heard. Nnoitra removed his boot as Starrk's head twitched to life. Starrk finally sat up and looked around slowly, groggily, with a glazed look in his eyes.

The face of the lanky man that stood over him broke into a mirthless smile. "Well damn, for a sec, I thought you died in your sleep."

Starrk needn't have looked up to have known that the voice was that of Nnoitra. "I'm starting to wish that I had…"

"Oh? Good." Rather than lower himself to Starrk, who was sitting, Nnoitra grabbed him by the shoudlers and pulled him up to his eye level. "Then maybe you know where you stand," he hissed.

Starrk smiled wanly. "No, I can't say that I do."

Zommari turned to Gin. "Ichimaru, are you seriously going to allow this to happen?"

"Allow what to happen?" Gin asked.

Zommari flailed his hands toward Starrk and Nnoitra. "This! This…this _brawl_!"

Gin tilted his head. "Doesn't look like a brawl to me…"

"Do those slits you call eyes not see what Nnoitra just did to that man?"

"Oh, of course I did!" Gin grinned. " 'At's another 30 points for ya, Nnoitra!"

Zommari abandoned the conversation with frustration, instead centering his thoughts on his chess match with Ulquiorra.

Gin turned to leave, but not before saying to Nnoitra, "Beat 'im up all ya want, but it ain't gonna getcha anywhere. Sleep's all he cares about." He flashed his trademark grin before disappearing beyond the doorway.

Starrk glanced at his feet, which dangled idly a good foot off the floor. "Hate to be a bother, but put me down."

Nnoitra's ivory teeth were slightly exposed as he began to snarl, but his lips stopped. Instead, they curled up into a smile. He unclenched his fists and dropped Starrk. "Hey, I wanna make it up to you." There were slight pauses between each of his words.

Starrk stood up. "There's nothing better you could do right now than let me sleep."

But Nnoitra shoved him out the door. "No, really! I _insist_!" The last word was drawn out: _insissssssssst._

Halibel hardly watched Nnoitra leave with her teammate. Instead, she turned back to Ulquiorra. "Is It me, or did our discussion not get us anywhere?"

"It's not you." Ulquiorra replied without looking at her.

Halibel swallowed a disgruntled sigh. "Then let's keep it simple: I don't hurt you, and you don't hurt me."

"Sounds simple enough." Ulquiorra looked up from his pieces for the first time since Nnoitra left.

Halibel nodded. "Good," she said as she walked out of the room.

The emerald orbs in Ulquiorra's face turned back to the silent battle on the crystalline that was drawing to a close. He placed his rook precisely where it should have been. "Checkmate."

* * *

In the kitchen, Starrk lay prone on the ground, catching up on his sleep. On the other side, Nnoitra was slaving over a small alcove in the wall, in which flames erupted around a small black pot, which hung by a hook mounted on the alcove's ceiling. After about five minutes, he put his arm inside (singeing his uniform, but not his hand), pulled the pot out by its one long handle, removed the lid, and poured a steaming dark brown liquid into an unsurprisingly white mug. With the mug in hand, he walked over to Starrk.

"Oi, Starrk," he mumbled.

Starrk hardly looked up. "What?"

Nnoitra thrust the steaming mug into Starrk's face. "Here."

The rich aroma of the drink wafted up Starrk's nostrils. As much as he hated to admit it, the smell was delicious. It was penetrating and bold, but not exactly sweet. Slowly, he raised the rim of the mug to his lips, took a sip, and drew back. It tasted nothing like it smelled; the taste was sharp and bitter…yet, oddly cloying. He took another sip, which turned into a slurp, then gradually became steady gulps, until the mug was drained. All that was left was a brown residue the texture of wet powder.

Starrk let out a small belch. "Not bad."

Nnoitra's ivory crescent of a grin wrinkled his cheeks. "Glad ya like it."

* * *

Starrk walked back to his room and flopped down on his mattress, waiting for the soft embrace of sleep…

…Which wasn't coming as soon as usual. Confused, he tried a different position. Still nothing. Maybe if he tired himself out, he'd fall asleep. With that thought, he stood up and paced in elliptical trails. As he continued to walk, he felt an odd feeling – his heart seemed to be beating faster; he could feel heat rushing into his legs and face. He felt a surge of – dare he say it – adrenaline as he picked up the pace. Apparently, he wasn't tiring himself out enough. He took his hand and ran it through his hair repeatedly. His fingers raked his hair, pulling it back, then letting go, pulling back, letting go, pulling back, letting go. This cycle just never seemed to end. He looked down and was surprised to find that his feet were still maintaining their steady pacing. His breathing had increased as well.

Lilinette hazily cracked an eye open and aimed it at the jittery Starrk. "Starrk," she mumbled into her pillow, "you're awake?"

Starrk stared at her. "Whoa, I guess I am. Weird, huh? This usually doesn't happen that often, does it? Actually, I can't remember this ever happening at all. Can you remember something like this ever happening?"

The little arrancar girl looked uneasily back at her other self. "No…"

"I know, see? I guess when we split up you took all my energy. Wow I never actually thought of that before. Have you ever thought of that before because I haven't. Maybe it's because I never took the time to think about things like this even though you're a part of me and I'm a part of you makes sense right? Yeah I thought so anyways that reminds me how did we get here I remember Aizen coming over to us and telling us to arrive at Los Noches so we did and I got that little slip of paper."

He stopped his rant (Lilinette was concerned if he had inhaled at all) and pulled the rectangular movie ticket-esque slip of paper from his pocket. "I wonder what this is for do you wonder why that smiling dude gave this to us because I don't know why maybe we'll need it later one so I'm not gonna take any chances anyway if you wanna know where I was Halibel visited earlier and asked me–" His voice cut off as he fell forward and remained motionless.

Lilinette held her breath, but she needn't have worried. Small muffled snores emitted from the small space where Starrk's face met the floor. With her brow furrowed, the girl turned around and fell back asleep.

* * *

The palace was still. Everyone had eventually turned in (Aaroniero was nowhere to be seen) and everything was tranquil and still. Suddenly, the strident bellows of a bell with the earsplitting intensity of a fire alarm ripped though the silence and stirred each and every arrancar awake. The bell continued to scream out, echoing off each and every nook and cranny of the building.

Grimmjow burst from his room, wearing only his uniform pants and a snarl. "What the _fuck_?"

The bell's sound increased; it's bearer was drawing close.

"Ugh. What in the name…?" Halibel swayed groggily from her room.

The ear-piercing "_CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!_" grew louder and louder, until it finally ceased. A figure strode down the hallways and stopped in plain view of all the Espada. It was Gin, in his shapeless white robes. In one hand, he held a tremendous rusted bell, and in the other, he held a hammer. "Good morning' everyone!" he said cheerily, as if it were normal to wake everyone via bell. "Be downstairs in the kitchen in less than ten minutes!" He left before anyone could retort or, in Yammy's case, throw a punch.

By the time everyone had reached the kitchen, Gin was sitting at the small round table in the middle of the room. His grin suggested that he had something planned. Then again, it suggested a lot of things, but at the same time, nothing.

"Damn, I'm starving," Yammy growled. "Where the hell's breakfast?"

Gin replied, "Actually, Yammy, I'm glad you asked."

* * *

**You thought I forgot about this, didn't you? Anyways, in the next chapter: The tests begin!**


End file.
